


i am unfinished (i've got so much left to learn)

by comprehendsubtext



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, abernight but if you blink youll miss it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26001979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comprehendsubtext/pseuds/comprehendsubtext
Summary: It all happened so fast. One moment the adventurers and other collected persons were in the forest, saying goodbye and fuck you to their mother, and then the world was blurring past them, and the only thing she could focus on was her sister’s hand in hers. She heard the others apologizing to each other and hugging each other and looking at the world below, but Aelwyn was stuck staring at the lines in Cassandra’s palm. Both hands were soft but incredibly foreign, each in their own way. Most of them were crying, so she didn’t have to feel out of place any more than she already did for her choked sobs.Cassandra deposited the group at the edge of Arborly, a place Aelwyn knew, but with a reception she did not.Gnomes cheered for their arrival, Cassandra was congratulating them for achieving their goal after all they faced, and it didn’t slow down there. They piled into the van and kept moving.Moving to Leviathan, where Aelwyn was called “luvvy” for the first time.From Leviathan into a portal, where Arthur Aguefort promised to help her secure a general amnesty.Out of the portal to Elmville. To Mordred Manor.
Relationships: Adaine Abernant & Aelwen Abernant, Aelwen Abernant & Jawbone O'Shaughnessey, Aelwen Abernant & Sandralynn Faeth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	i am unfinished (i've got so much left to learn)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing dimension 20 stuff AND my first time posting to ao3 so my stress is through the roof but i love aelwyn so much and writing these little pieces just made love her more  
> big thank you to gwen @ultramechatron on twt for essentially beta-ing this and bee @frostwhipped on twt for screaming with me while i wrote this  
> title is from ben platt's grow as we go because im emotional

It all happened so fast. One moment the adventurers and other collected persons were in the forest, saying goodbye and fuck you to their mother, and then the world was blurring past them, and the only thing she could focus on was her sister’s hand in hers. She heard the others apologizing to each other and hugging each other and looking at the world below, but Aelwyn was stuck staring at the lines in Cassandra’s palm. Both hands were soft but incredibly foreign, each in their own way. Most of them were crying, so she didn’t have to feel out of place any more than she already did for her choked sobs. 

Cassandra deposited the group at the edge of Arborly, a place Aelwyn knew, but with a reception she did not.

Gnomes cheered for their arrival, Cassandra was congratulating them for achieving their goal after all they faced, and it didn’t slow down there. They piled into the van and kept moving.

Moving to Leviathan, where Aelwyn was called “luvvy” for the first time.

From Leviathan into a portal, where Arthur Aguefort promised to help her secure a general amnesty.

Out of the portal to Elmville. To Mordred Manor.

Mordred Manor, which loomed over her, even with its wind chimes on the front porch and balloons that she could see through the windows and the friendly werewolf smiling and waving from the front door.

Her fingers curled tighter and tighter around the small bag she slugged over her shoulder. It was all she had been traveling since she escaped Kei Lumennura and met up with her parents.

“So, this is-?” she trailed off, eyes still scanning up and down the building’s impressive frame.

“Mordred Manor,” Adaine said, taking her bag from Gorgug after he lifted it out of the van for her. She adjusted her glasses and turned back to her sister. “We only had a few days in it before we had to leave for the crown of the Nightmare King, but it’s home.” She smiled and took a step toward the house, following the other “Bad Kids” before Aelwyn reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“You said this house has secret passageways, right?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not- I don’t know if I can go through the front door and be,” she swallowed, “welcomed. I just need to trance as soon as possible.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Adaine looked like she was examining a map inside her head before she called out, “We’ll be inside in a minute.” Riz turned and gave Aelwyn a look, but everyone else seemed unbothered by the statement.

“We’ll let ‘em know,” Sandralynn responded as she shut the trunk and joined the others on their way up the hill.

Aelwyn let go of Adaine’s wrist, but her sister ended up taking her hand anyway, and pulling her around the backside of the house, where hydrangea bushes managed to get just enough sunlight, the line of bushes a slow blend of pink to blue. She remembered something from an alchemy class about pH levels in soil and having to switch what you thought was right for acid and base tests. But of all her courses at Hudol, she couldn’t say she paid all that much attention in alchemy. Between two bushes was a brick with the slightest crack passing through it. Adaine traced a finger over it, and the wall split open to reveal a dark and dusty tunnel. They had to go through the bushes to enter, but they weren’t roses or poison ivy, so she didn’t have reason to complain. Aelwyn didn’t have the energy to cast Light, so she had to rely on Adaine’s memory to take them to someplace quiet.

It wasn’t just Jawbone that was waiting inside to welcome the group. Because Gorgug drove everyone to Mordred Manor together in the van as their first stop, the friends and family of all the Bad Kids awaited inside. That explained the balloons. Aelwyn heard the muffled cheers as she followed her sister, corner after corner, until they arrived into Adaine’s room through the opposite side of a trick bookshelf.

“We can hang out here for a while,” the younger elf said, returning the shelf to its usual position.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss your party.”

“It’s not for me, specifically.”

“I just need to trance; you don’t need to babysit me.”

“I wouldn’t be babysitting you; I just want to make sure you can trance here.”

“I need to work off this exhaustion. I’ll be out for a few hours. I’ll be fine.”

Adaine’s eyebrows scrunched together as she looked around the room. Part of Aelwyn wanted to tell her she’d get wrinkles, but she bit her tongue. “Do you want to trance in my bed? We didn’t eat or drink anything on our way back, do you want me to get you something?”

“I’ll just sit on these um, loose cushions.”

“They’re from a sleepover we had before we left it was- it’s a whole thing.” Even if they had only been here for a few days before leaving, Adaine was probably more comfortable here than she had ever been in the Abernant household. Pillows flung about, laughing and having fun in a room that was truly her own. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

She didn’t need anything else. Being here was already so much; she didn’t need to ask for more. “When you get back, can you trance with me?” she asked, finding it difficult to look her sister in the eye. “So that I don’t wake up and not know where you are? You’re here, and we’re safe, and things are okay?

“Of course.”

“Adaine, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for this. I’ll trance with you as much and as often as you need me to. You’re safe here.” Aelwyn nodded and watched as Adaine left, closing the door behind her. And even with thousands of thoughts swirling around her head, Aelwyn fell into a trance.

\---

The thing about trancing is that you’re never entirely unconscious. You’re at least partially aware of whatever is happening. You can’t keep track of time during the trance, that’d be miserable, but Aelwyn was probably three or four hours into her trance when Adaine came back upstairs. She watched as Adaine walked into a room too big to be a closet, and Jawbone stood in the doorway. He might not have even noticed Aelwyn was there. Everything she saw and heard was a little fuzzy, but Adaine came out of the smaller room crying, and she and Jawbone hugged. There was something about presents and adoption and someone being easy to love. Even without full consciousness, a pit set into Aelwyn’s stomach. She felt like the villain watching the hero’s for-now happy ending, knowing they’d disrupt it soon enough. She watched them hug and talk and wished, like she often did in solitude, that she didn’t have to be an elf, that she could just sleep and not have to be so present, so aware, even just for a few hours a day.

In this case, Aelwyn was so exhausted that she needed more than a few hours and ended up taking a full day just to feel somewhat like herself again. When she was about a third of the way through her exhaustion, Adaine returned to their room. She changed into a big shirt and some shorts and wandered over to the cozy pile of cushions, dragging a blanket behind her. Boggy followed and nuzzled himself into the crook Adaine’s arm. Adaine leaned on her while she tranced and spread the fleece for the two to share. Boggy even rested for a while on Aelwyn’s knee before eventually cuddling with Adaine. Aelwyn tried not to overthink the thin blue lines of a protection ward surrounding the two of them. She didn’t remember casting them, but never broke her trance to take them down. 

\--- 

When she left her trance, she was holding Adaine close, the two swaddled in the soft material. Adaine was wrinkling her nose and reaching for her glasses when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she yawned. The door opened to reveal the kind but nosy members of the Mordred Manor. Probably not all of them, but she hadn’t really taken stock of who did and didn’t live here. They all just kept looking, some trying to gesture and some trying to hide from her sight. Adaine looked over at her sister. “I’m going to see what that’s about.”

She nodded as her sister rose from their warm cocoon. Boggy was on her shoulder, croaking in a way that mimicked Adaine’s yawn. Closing the door behind her, she entered the hallway and began speaking with the group.

Unfortunately, the door wasn’t enough to hinder the perception of her elven ears. She listened to their faint questions, asking if Aelwyn wanted home-cooked meals or maybe some calming tea, forgiveness or just a fresh start. It was a good thing she wasn’t out there with them. That way, she didn’t have to look them in the eyes and admit that she didn’t think she’d be able to accept any of their offers.

When Adaine returned, the crowd seemed to have dispersed. “Do you need anything?"

Her throat was dry as she swallowed her discomfort. “Some water would be lovely if that’s alright.” 

\--- 

One of the things that ended up surprising Aelwyn about living with Adaine in Mordred Manor was that the door to their room locked from the inside.

She had trouble taking everything in sometimes, not as perceptive as she used to be, maybe it was that she had been less on-guard recently? But when she made an aside about Fig bursting into their room while she was studying, Adaine suggested she “just lock the door” like it was so obvious. Something in Aelwyn’s chest seized ever so slightly, and her head turned slowly toward the door. The tiny silver piece at the center of the handle seemed to watch Aelwyn in return. She tried to return to her studies, but her mind kept drifting back to that stupid door. And with that door came her parents, and her sister banging on the walls and screaming, and Aelwyn learning Knock at school even though her parents scoffed at the purpose. She was a good girl; her door wasn’t locked nearly as often as Adaine’s. But when it was, she knew her parents did not want to see her about the house whatsoever, and it was easier to go to her window, and wherever else she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Aelwyn?”

“Yes?”

“If you don’t want to work in this room, there are plenty of secret rooms I could set you up in.”

“Oh,” Aelwyn responded, “No, no. I’m fine with studying here.” 

\--- 

Mordred Manor’s hidden staircases and passageways were incredibly useful for sneaking down to get midnight snacks, especially when you already felt like an intruder. She’d been here for months now, but every once in awhile, she just needed to know that she could exist and be alone outside of her room. Tonight was one of those nights, where she pulled on her slippers and headed off for a glass of water and maybe a slice of the pumpkin bread Gorgug and Ragh made. She felt kind of proud of herself when she found her way to the kitchen so quickly; she hadn’t gotten lost like she had so many times before. She felt her fuzzy slippers meeting the pale tile, slightly cool even through a layer of cushion and fabric. Her fingers danced across a row of switches and flipped on one that turned on the light above the oven. There was just enough light for her to see her way around the kitchen. For a while now she had been trying to memorize those switches, it was a small victory to remember correctly. She paced about the small room, opening every cabinet, looking at its contents, and closing it. Her fingers trailed the counters and found the bread box, with two slices already cut for the next person who came across it. She grabbed a napkin from the table and gently placed a slice inside before pulling a chair out from the table and taking a seat.

She picked apart the slice bit by bit, nibble by nibble, trying to keep crumbs from falling and making a mess. It was soft and had the right amount of ginger, and probably would’ve even better warm. Gorgug and Ragh had been baking a lot recently, but Aelwyn never really developed a tolerance for lots of sweet things, so she preferred goods like this.

She had one bite left when she heard the creak of the floorboards at the base of the stairs. Her eyes darted back to the secret doorway, but she didn’t move. Out of the shadowed halls of Mordred Manor, the wood elf Sandralynn appeared, rubbing her eyes. “Morning, Aelwyn,” she said, completely unfazed.

It was certainly too early to say good morning. “Did something wake you?”

She shook her head. “Just woke up and couldn’t get back into my trance. Figured I’d just start getting ready for work. You?”

“Similar situation.”

“Sorry about that. I’m going to make some coffee. You want any?”

“No, I’m alright, thank you,” There was a part of Aelwyn that was jealous of her routine. She knew where everything was, how much to make for the rest of the house, the right amount of beans to grind and use for the strength everyone liked. She didn’t have to think about what she was doing. They just knew this place, calling it "home" made sense to them.

She turned around and leaned back against the counters. “I know I’m not Jawbone, and I’m not your sister, but I’m still here if you’d like to talk.”

Aelwyn sat in silence for a little while before trying to speak. This was followed by her stopping and starting of sentences, stuttering fragments filled with doubt and embarrassment and maybe fear, though she would never admit to it. Eventually, she found some words. “I keep finding myself thinking about how I used to treat Adaine.” Deep inhale, slow exhale. “The baby sister I should’ve been protecting ended up stronger than me.” She turned and gave a weak smile to the wood elf.

They stared at the table together, and Aelwyn could see Sandralynn nodding out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Not all of them were my fault, but I went along with some things that part of me knew I shouldn’t have. Sometimes that’s all you know how to do. Your parents weren’t good people, but you did what you could to survive in that house.” Sandralynn paused, grabbing a mug from the cabinet for herself. “Don’t compare yourself as better or worse than Adaine for how you are healing. You are varied outcomes of the same environment. Being the favorite of your parents didn’t guarantee you freedom from their shitty parenting.” The coffee machine beeped. “I know you’re used to competition, but I think right now, she could use someone to heal with.” 

\--- 

She can’t start trancing until after Adaine has. She thinks some nights they compete to hear the other fall into a trance, because of how long she has to wait to hear Adaine’s slow and even breaths. Feel the rise and fall of her sister’s chest and know that she’s okay.

Early on in her stay in Mordred Manor, she would stay up so late sometimes she would watch the sunrise. Even if she heard Adaine trancing, she kept waiting, studying, thinking. She remembered a night when Adaine stayed out late with the Bad Kids and didn’t return until past the witching hour. She opened the door and rubbed her eyes. Seeing Aelwyn awake barely startled her, but there was something else in her gaze. Aelwyn desperately hoped it wasn’t disappointment.

“I don’t like seeing you exhausted,” Adaine sighed. She pulled off her jeans and chunky sweater in exchange for pajamas and made her way over to the bed. Aelwyn watched as she pulled up the covers and clambered in beside her.

She’d do this several more times, and Aelwyn would never complain. Adaine would stay up to make sure Aelwyn could trance, and Aelwyn stayed up to make sure Adaine was safe.

She spent so much time not caring about her sister; she had to make up for the years lost.

Always so competitive. 

\--- 

Adaine’s room was messy. She had quite a large desk, nestled beside one of the windows so she could get some natural light during the day. Even with the desk’s multiple shelves and drawers, papers, pens, books, sticky notes, one or two feathers, and possibly some leaves covered the surface, leaving little of the wood visible. Her closet wasn’t much better, with a pile of clean clothes barely a foot away from a pile of dirty clothes, almost indistinguishable from one another if there wasn’t a single folded t-shirt on top of the first. These heaps were separated to allow for a path to the closet, where hangers were used to keep her shirts, jackets, sweaters, and hoodies in no apparent order. Unsurprisingly, the mixture of piles and the disorganized closet, not to mention a dresser that seems to rearrange itself, made it difficult to find any specific garment before school.

To be fair, the house overall wasn’t clean. As a group (or a family, a certain werewolf would say), they tried. They rotated chores, and sometimes they made it competitive. The people that cooked dinner wouldn’t have to do dishes, the people that swept wouldn’t have to scrub the tile, the people that pulled weeds wouldn’t have to stir the compost heap. If you took care of your chores early and you wouldn’t have to dread it. But that only lasted so long. After just one movie night, the house was a mess again. Popcorn flung about and pressed into the creases of the couch, and crumbs kicked underneath the fridge, blankets unfolded, covering the room. Clothes were abandoned and worked their way into each other’s laundry and eventually their closets until you saw your adoptive father’s almost maybe niece in law wearing what you think is your nightshirt when you go to get a drink of water.

But Aelwyn did her chores and tried to keep the house clean. Not that she saw it as her house to keep clean. She had to be the best possible guest so that maybe it could become her house, so maybe she could use the word home and not feel like a fraud. She cleaned the coffee pot after everyone had had their fill and checked the weather at the beginning of the week so that she could pull weeds the day after it rained because she’d be more efficient, even if her knees ended up covered in mud.

Those jeans, once washed, end up neatly folded and carefully tucked in a suitcase underneath her bed. Aelwyn kept all of her things in that suitcase. She heard Jawbone mention it to Adaine once, and waited silently around the corner as they debated about if it was because she didn’t want Adaine to share her closet along with everything else she was sharing, or because the older elf was afraid she’d have to leave quickly. They both decided they shouldn’t speculate, but by then, Aelwyn had tiptoed up a secret passageway and back to her and Adaine’s room.

Her and Adaine’s room. With Adaine’s bed that she had Jawbone make into a bunk bed. Adaine didn’t even get to keep her bottom bunk, because Aelwyn felt the ceiling was too close to her. The room with the beanbag Adaine had to move so that Aelwyn could set up her own little desk.

She didn’t want Adaine to have to share everything she earned on her own, but maybe she also didn’t want to take root anywhere. But maybe they were wrong, and it was just easier to keep all of her things in one place. Why did she have to make things messier, take up more space, why is it weird to keep things condensed? Why did they have to whisper about her and worry about her?

She realized she was staring at the clean pile of Adaine’s clothes and rose from her bed. With a flick of her wrist, the suitcase slid from underneath her bed, and she kneeled beside it to zip it open. She looked through each stack, from the lone bathing suit to her thick elven winter robes. One nightshirt was missing from the suitcase, which confirmed her suspicions of Miss Applebees, though she had no idea how she obtained the shirt. Aelwyn did all her own laundry. But Adaine had stories of all of Kristen’s impossible feats, and it was best not to dwindle on it. She’d ask for it back sooner rather than later, because she didn’t want to have to leave behind a- no- she wouldn’t have to go any time soon, that’s ridiculous. Still, she wanted the shirt back. She zipped the suitcase back up and pushed it back under her bed. Their bed.

Eventually, she found herself with a hand hovering over Adaine’s bookshelves. Her eyes scanned the titles, and her thin fingers plucked her books from where they had been crowding Adaine’s. She had quite the stack beside her feet when Adaine knocked on the door frame.

Aelwyn’s eyes remained on the bookshelf. “It’s your room; you don’t have to knock Adaine.”

“Our room,” she corrected, slowly and pointedly. Aelwyn bit the inside of her lip as her sister continued, “Why are you moving your books?”

“I don’t want them to crowd your shelf,” Aelwyn stated plainly. She could hear Adaine walking over, but did not turn to look at her.

“Jawbone has so many shelves in his office, but he’s given so many books away that several are partially empty. He just has to rearrange and condense a few things, but he’d probably give us one of his. Or we could go out and get a bigger one. We’ll use up the extra storage eventually.”

“Well, I don’t want mine to get mixed up with yours.”

Out of the corner of Aelwyn’s eye, she could see Adaine pivot toward the shelf and start scanning its contents. “I can tell the difference between Abjuration and Divination texts, and some of your books are good for my studying. It’s not like they can’t touch.”

“I just think yours should be on your shelf, and mine can-,” Aelwyn stopped herself and sighed as she crossed her arms.

Adaine’s eyebrows were knit together when she turned to look at Aelwyn. “Do you want a shelf that can just be yours?” she asked.

“No, I’ll just put them in my bag, that’ll give you your shelf space back and then you don’t have to worry about getting new ones.”

“Aelwyn?”

Aelwyn paused with her index finger tugging at the top of the spine of The Sanctum Compendium. “Yes, Adaine?”

“You don’t need to keep your things underneath your bed.”

“No, Adaine. I don’t need to,” she huffed.

“So, why do you?”

“I like my things to be all in one place. No scrambling or searching.”

“You can put your clothes in the closet, Aelwyn. We can make space so that your side of the closet is organized, and then I’ll make sure I don’t get my clothes mixed up in yours.”

“Of course, I can Adaine, but I don’t want my clothes in your closet.” Aelwyn placed The Sanctum Compendium on top of the stack and pulled the stack into her arms. It was awkward, but she kept her composure as she walked over to the bed.

“Do you think I’m gonna complain because you’re using too many hangers?” Adaine asked, trailing behind her.

Aelwyn let the books fall from her arms before she knelt back down to grab her suitcase. “Adaine-”

“It’s okay to take up space, Aelwyn.”

With a flick of her wrist, the suitcase was in front of the elf once again. “It’d be taking up your space, and I need to keep things-“

“It is OUR space. I want you to want to be a part of it,” Adaine interrupted, sitting to join her sister’s level.

Aelwyn closed her eyes and exhaled. “You’re giving up half of everything you have. You’ve earned it. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to convince Jawbone and Sandralynn to let me stay.”

“Youdon’thavetoconvincethemtoletmestay,” Adaine mimicked, her voice pitched up at least an octave and a half. Aelwyn whipped around to face her, scowling. “You’re not used to sharing because Angwyn never made you. I feel no obligation to sharing this with you because I want to. I’m going to be stubborn because this is our space. Our home. And our family. You’re going to deal with sharing until you convince yourself that you’ve earned this. You’re in your head. There’s not a lot I can say to you that I haven’t already said. If it helps, I’ll remind you every day that I’m glad you’re my big sister, and it makes me really happy that I get to share this with you. But I think there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to believe me. And that’s okay. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Aelwyn swallowed and nodded, eyes trained on the carpet. “Thank you, Adaine,” she responded, her voice just louder than a whisper. Her sister leaned forward to knock their foreheads together, and Aelwyn used her sleeve to wipe a tear from her cheek. 

\--- 

Aelwyn could hear the party continue beneath her. It was Fig’s seventeenth birthday. She was down there long enough to make sure she wasn’t rude, but after a certain point, the people saying hello and waving stopped trying as hard to make eye contact with her.

Aelwyn tried to ignore the music pulsing through the walls of the house, focusing instead on her spellbook. There was a knock at her door.

“Come in, Adaine,” she said, eyes never moving from her neatly scrawled notes.

“It’suh- it’s Jawbone. Can I open the door?”

“Oh,” she said, “Of course.” The door creaked open, but he didn’t enter, didn’t intrude upon her space.

“Noticed you left the party early, didn’t even stay for cake." His knuckle continued tapping on the doorframe, soft enough that she could see it, but not hear it. "You doin’ alright there, kiddo?”

“Yes, it was just rather loud; I needed a break.” She heard a grunt from the door but continued writing.

“Right, I getcha, it gets pretty rowdy with this bunch, lotta noise.”

“Usually, I’m fine. You didn’t have to come up and check in on me. You should be enjoying the party.

“We all need a break sometimes.” He gestured to the foot of the bed and cocked his head at her. “Alright if I sit?

She didn’t give a response except for a nod of her head. He walked over slowly and sat at the edge, giving her the space that she was finally able to ask for here. She didn’t like to be touched without warning, especially not when she was feeling like this. But Jawbone knew she also appreciated that she could ask for hugs, so he was close enough that he could turn around and provide one if she asked. Aelwyn sometimes wished that he wasn’t so cautious, so good at this, so she could have an excuse for screaming or crying or ignoring his efforts.

Because she couldn’t call him out for being too careless, she could call him out for being too careful.

“I’m not fragile,” she spat, “I’m not broken.”

His head turned toward her voice, but he kept his eyes to the ground. Sometimes she didn’t like to be looked at in this state either. Not that she was in a country. No, she just needed a break. “Kiddo, I would never suggest that you are either of those things.”

“Then why are you so careful around me?”

She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he drew a slow breath. “You have lived a rough life, and you deserve to be comfortable in a new space,” he said, “I think I worry that I might say or do something that reminds you of your past, and you don’t need any of that coming back for you. You’ve certainly got some trauma on your plate, but in no way are you broken. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise; they’re full of shit.”

“You’re too nice to me.”

“Want me to razz you more often, kid?” he joked, “Because I’ll-”

“It doesn’t feel real,” she interrupted.

He considered this for a beat. “Aelwyn, I gotta tell you I am terrible at lying. None of this is ingenuine.”

“No, Adaine convinced you that I could be a good person. Somehow you both still believe in that, but the people down there, they know what I’m really like.”

“What do you think Adaine told me when y’all left the nightmare forest?”

“I don’t know. Something about the power of good friends and becoming a better person and how we killed our dad?”

He exhaled. “Adaine told me that she got to see you act on your own. She told me that she loved you. And that she wanted to offer you a place here. I said, ‘why not.’ I don’t have a picture of what I need you to be, Aelwyn. I just have an offer for you to be something other than what you see yourself as. I don’t want you to be anything, really, other than kind to yourself and others.”

“I don’t think I can forgive myself for what I did to them.”

“The Maidens?”

“Them, my sister, all of her friends. Because I could still be that person. What if I haven’t changed, and I don’t honestly regret what I did to them.”

“Do you?”

“I think I do,” she muttered.

“Are you planning on doing it again?”

“No.”

“Then I think you feel sorry, or at least you feel regret. Give them some time, a formal apology, and show them that the apology means something by not repeating yourself. You’re not a chronomancer, Aelwyn, there’s only so much you can do.”

Aelwyn swung her legs around and shifted so that she could sit beside Jawbone, but he kept his eyes to the wall the entire time. She appreciated it. He knocked into her shoulder and continued, “But I think you were on to something with the power of good friends. ‘Cause that group of kids took a mangy werewolf and got him health insurance, a job that he actually enjoys, and now he has a house, and he gets to cook for people he cares about and see his partner at the end of the day. I mean, truly powerful stuff.”

She leaned into him and placed her head on his shoulder, which did not move from under her. He was solid, he was steady, and he was warm. Aelwyn wondered if this was how parents were supposed to be.

They returned to the party about fifteen minutes later and made it just in time for cake. Aelwyn grabbed a drink and stuck to the walls as people ate and danced and continued their raucous celebration. Sam Nightingale approached her, and when they talked, the genasi didn’t look away. 

\--- 

Aelwyn would never sleep in, but staying cozy in bed past *gasp* eight in the morning felt like another little fuck you to her parents. So of course, she loved it. She’d get on her phone and scroll through Fantasy Instagram until she smelled breakfast and get on her slippers to grab what was left when the kitchen and dining room weren’t full of people. She’d try to ignore them staring. She had been working hard with a lot of things recently, and Adaine said they were trying too. Jawbone would wave and just happen to leave the kettle on the stove with enough water for another cup. Ragh would always say good morning. The mug she liked was ready to be used by her every morning, and someone would make sure a portion of whatever they had was left out and warm, sometimes in a plastic container ready to go for her. It felt strange, but sometimes she would work up the courage to eat with them instead of after them. She had to watch her tongue from time to time as she was still learning where to draw the line in banter.

“They’re all trying,” she reminds herself, “I have to make their efforts worthwhile.” 

\--- 

Aelwyn and Adaine were lying on their separate beds, the room’s comfortable silence only interrupted by the occasional croak of Boggy. Aelwyn scrolled through Fantasy Instagram, typing a compliment onto Sam’s latest post. Adaine’s bed creaked above her. It happened whenever Adaine sat up or shifted one way or another too drastically or quickly. While Aelwyn had grown used to that noise, she was not yet fond of it.

“Aelwyn?” Adaine called out, empty of the fear her voice occasionally carried in the middle of the night from that same spot.

Aelwyn’s brow peaked. “Yes?”

“Could you braid my hair?” her sister asked.

There was a moment of silence as Aelwyn smirked and looked at the underside of her sister’s bed, like maybe if she tried hard enough, she could see her sister through it. “Really, Adaine? Do you not know how to braid your own hair?”

Adaine slammed her head back into her pillow. “Yes,” she groaned. Her sigh was so exaggerated that Aelwyn could hear it clearly from below. “I know how to braid. I’m just not as good at it as you are. If you don’t want to, I can just ask Fig or Kristen.” The bed above creaked once more, whether Adaine had turned on her side or sat back up.

“I can try,” Aelwyn shrugged.

Adaine’s head appeared upside down over the side of her bed, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide and bright. “Really?

“Yes,” Aelwyn said, setting her phone aside and swinging a leg over the side of her mattress, “But it’s going to look bad.”

“Your braids always look lovely, what are you talking about?” Adaine replied, climbing down the ladder and onto the floor.

Aelwyn shifted to make space for her sister and rolled her eyes. “I learned to braid on my head. It’s different when you do it on other people.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the same motions, Aelwyn,” her sister teased. The girl sat on the bed beside her sister and straightened her back, her legs folded in front of her, “criss-cross applesauce” as Jawbone would say sometimes.

“How would you know,” Aelwyn teased, combing her fingers through her sister’s short locks. “You can’t do it either way.”

Adaine scoffed but settled to allow Aelwyn to work her (in this case, metaphorical) magic.

Perfection was a requirement within the Abernant home, clothes ironed, not a hair out of place, not a single test or assignment less than exemplary. That doesn’t mean anyone is guaranteed to help you with your clothes, your hair, or your schoolwork. You ought to be good at something the first time you try it. Or hide your failures, and never let them see the light of day. Then you work and work until you are good at it. And you better make it quick. When Aelwyn’s hair needed to be up for specific classes as a safety precaution, she had to spend quite a bit of time determining the best style. She didn’t like the look of the high bun that her mother sported, and her mother said her forehead looked more prominent when she wore a tight ponytail. She didn’t bother asking her peers for what they were doing with their hair, deciding she simply had to learn to braid. It was a skill she was somewhat embarrassed not to have mastered already. Girls learned how to style their dolls' hair when they were toddlers. Surely she couldn’t ask an unseen servant or one of her friends to do it for her. She’d figure it out.

Prestidigitation can help cover tangles and knotted messes of hair when you think you are skilled enough to attempt certain styles while unable to see the back of your head.

Luckily, the abjurer no longer needed Prestidigitation. She asked if Adaine wanted one braid or two, if she wanted them in the style dryads wore or the style of elvish nobility.

At the mention of elvish nobility, Adaine rolled her eyes in such a way that Aelwyn thought she could sense it. “I’m sure there’s a formal hairstyle for the elven oracle. I could look it up and send a picture of you in it over to Fallinel. I’m sure they’d faint.”

Adaine giggled. “Form my hair into a sphere. Perhaps if we add enough crystals, it can be my arcane focus.”

“You know,” Aelwyn said, her fingers weaving through the light strands, “It wasn’t always a female oracle. If they couldn’t ensure a certain hair length, hair probably wasn’t part of the set uniform.”

“Maybe they forced the male oracles to grow out their hair.”

“High elves have never prioritized women over men.”

“But they will always prioritize tradition,” Adaine corrected, emphasizing with her pointer finger.

Aelwyn hummed. “Now that you mention it, Father- Angwyn kept his hair short, but I think that might be a part of the culture of Spyre.”

“Fabian’s grandfather had long hair, so did most of those soldiers in Calethriel tower.” Adaine paused. “Do you think he cut his hair when we moved here?

“I don’t remember what he looked like in Fallinel.” Aelwyn paused, the rhythm of her hands now disrupted and strange. She let out a light laugh and continued weaving. “I don’t remember what I looked like in Fallinel,” she said, laughing at the thought of the little Abernants back in the elven homeland. It seemed so long ago.

Though she could only see the back of her sister, she could sense the tension throughout. As she finished the first braid, her sister muttered, “Which time?”

Aelwyn pretended not to hear and got to work on the second braid.

Adaine did not repeat herself. 

\--- 

Aelwyn was curled up in the chair by the window with a mug of tea when Adaine, Ayda, and Fig started walking out. “Call me if you need anything,” Adaine yelled, “or if you just want to talk! I’ll have my crystal on me the whole time, okay?”

“I will!” she responded.

A while ago, she would’ve said that, and she would’ve been lying, but this time, she really would. 

\--- 

Aelwyn sat on her bed, her back against the wall, legs outstretched in front of her, with a book resting on her thighs. Her elven ears and her sister’s less than delicate footsteps meant she didn’t even have to look up to notice as Adaine walked through their open door and made her way over to the bed. Instead of changing into pajamas and climbing up into her own bunk, the younger elf grumbled and flopped onto Aelwyn’s. Aelwyn moved the book off of her lap so her sister could take its place. Adaine rested her head on Aelwyn’s leg, her own curled in halfway toward her chest, their bodies creating three walls for Boggy to rest upon. Aelwyn tucked a piece of short blonde hair behind her sister’s ear and sat quietly and patiently.

“Do you want to change your name?” Aelwyn was prepared to listen. She was not fully prepared to answer that question.

The girl exhaled through her nose. She had thought about it, of course. “Being an Abernant felt like something I had to prove, something I had to work to deserve with every breath,” she said, the words delicate as they sat in the evening air. “At some point, I felt like I did earn it. It felt like I had proven myself, and no one would question it ever again. But I don’t know if I want to be proud that it fits. I don’t know if I want it to fit. And maybe it doesn’t anymore, now that I’m not- now that the things I worked so hard for have fallen through.” In response, her sister hummed, and she could feel the vibration on her thigh. “Why do you ask?”

“Jawbone mentioned it to me today. I’m officially his, and I have been for a while, but we didn’t go through the extra steps to change my name.”

Aelwyn already figured that was the case, but it still formed a lump in her throat.

Aelwyn turned eighteen during her time in Calethriel Tower, so according to Solace, she was a legal adult. She didn’t need emancipation from Angwyn and Arianwen, but that meant that she was no one’s daughter, not really, unless they went through adult adoption. She couldn’t say she hadn’t thought about an adult adoption or changing her name on her own, but she never ended up going forward with either. Currently, she and Adaine were living with the Abernant name, and there was a part of Aelwyn that clutched onto it. “O’ Shaughnessey is undoubtedly a surname,” Aelwyn teased. Still combing her sister’s hair, she let her own head rest against the wall. “Adaine O’Shaughnessey. It suits you.”

“I don’t exactly get to pick,” her sister responded, rubbing her frog’s belly. She still wasn’t used to that. She wasn’t nauseated by frogs like some girls she knew back at Hudol; she liked Boggy. It was just the belly rubs, which made it seem like Boggariel was raised by dogs. But he wasn’t raised at all. He was a familiar, appearing from thin air and wearing a tiny backpack. Adaine continued, unaware of her sister’s puzzlement, “Well, I get to pick whether or not I change it but not really what I change it to? I don’t know. It seems like a better option than Abernant.”

“It would certainly prove that they’re your family. You would have the name tying you together, that’d be nice. It would make the whole relationship feel more real.” Aelwyn didn’t want to start thinking about how she could never call herself a real member of the family, especially not an O’Shaughnessey, and that even though she and Adaine were getting closer, Aelwyn was still an Abernant, and she’d never return from that, and-

Oh no. She was doing it already.

Adaine turned to look up at her sister. “You could change your name too,” she said, not with pity or guilt. It was a genuine offer. Adaine was good at that, being genuine, in a way that their parents weren’t.

“Maybe.”

Adaine held eye contact, and Aelwyn felt her jaw clench. “But if you don’t want to, you’re still my sister.”

“I know that,” she replied softly.

“Our names aren’t what makes us sisters.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

\--- 

It was game night, and there was a raucous game of Anomia occurring in the living room. All the Bad Kids were over, with some of the seven maidens arriving intermittently. She was doing pretty well, even if the elf wasn’t as fast as she used to be. But when the game became too much, she gave Adaine a look that told her she needed a quick break. She slipped away to the wooden stairs that lead up to their tower and rubbed her thumb against the grain of the wood. After a little while, she felt someone approaching, warm air meeting her cool skin. Ayda Aguefort.

She didn’t know a lot about the half-phoenix, but she was smart and observant and seemed to care about Adaine as much as she did. And Aelwyn didn’t have to worry about what she was thinking like she did everyone else, which was terrific.

The girl blinked at her. “These stairs are not comfortable,” she said, “Is there another reason you are sitting here?”

The elf shrugged. “I suppose it’s quieter, but I’m not too far away from everyone.”

Flames flickered behind her as she gave a quick nod. “That is a desirable combination. May I join you?”

“Yes, of course,” she responded, hoping the girl did not hear the surprise in her voice.

“There is a lot of energy in the living room, and while I think Fig is incredibly attractive when competitive, most of the other sources of noise, smell, light are incredibly stressful, and they started to frighten me.”

“Yes, it became overwhelming for me, too.”

“What do you do when you are overwhelmed? I am looking for additional solutions to my current strategy in case of dire circumstances.”

“I usually remove myself from the situation.”

“This makes sense. And what do you do when you can’t remove yourself from the situation?”

“Well,” the elf considered, “Another me would try to prove that I wasn’t overwhelmed at all, sort of overcompensate for my fears regarding my ability to handle complex situations.”

“So, you would say you don’t try to overcompensate anymore?”

“I can’t say I don’t, but I realized it wasn’t helping me and tried to do it less.”

“What would you do now if getting away was not a possibility?”

She pursed her lips, brows furrowed. “I don’t know. Luckily I haven’t had to find out yet.”

“Fascinating. I hope you discover another way to cope with your senses being overwhelmed soon. When you do, will you inform me so that I may too use that strategy?”

“Yes, I will let you know.”

“Thank you. I will update you on my findings as well.”

“That would be great.”

They sat there in oddly comfortable silence before Fig arrived to check in on Ayda. Aelwyn smiled as the two wandered off to another room, likely to “get their kisses in.” Eventually, people grew tired and started parting for the night. Aelwyn joined the stragglers for a quiet and deadly game of Uno, which she won happily. 

\--- 

In the Abernant household, you could host dozens of guests, and the house would still feel empty. The floors were cold, lights bright but eternally unforgiving. Walls were bare of color beside the minimalist paintings Arianwen made during her “exploratory phase” in college. Aelwyn would have assumed they had purchased them at another art auction while drinking eleven wine with people they pretended to like, but her mother told her about them when she was small and still so curious.

“It’s a reminder that just because something is,” she paused, narrowing her eyes, “pretty, it is not necessarily worth spending the rest of your life doing. I spent hours on that painting, and what did I earn because of it? Another thing to fill space.”

But they never came down from the walls. Their guests would observe them, critique them, and eventually praise them. Aelwyn would compliment her mother’s painting ability, and her mother would say that maybe once she’s finished doing real work, she’ll return to art. As a hobby, of course. Because it’s so easy, so simple.

In reality, Aelwyn never liked those paintings, but her mother needed to hear them being complimented. And as always, Aelwyn did what was wanted of her, even if it was never said aloud. Even if her mother acted like they were nothing, even if she pretended to shrug it off, even if she belittled the importance of art in the world.

It is with these paintings in mind that Aelwyn found herself in Fantasy Michael’s with a basket full of paintbrushes, tiny bottles of acrylic paint, and a variety of different sized canvases.

She found an old tablecloth, with claw marks from what was likely a lively game of spoons and smoothed it over a patch of carpet in their room. She’s been slowly abandoning the lessons from her parents, but that didn’t mean she would start making a mess of everything. It would be rude to stain the carpet, even if she wasn’t an Abernant.

Aelwyn left the door open, but she was so wrapped up in brushstrokes and blending that she didn’t hear her sister climbing the stairs up to their room. No matter what the status of the door, the many occupants of Mordred Manor were still kind enough to knock on the doorframe before walking into her room. Even Adaine. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Aelwyn had to shrug off the nervousness in her voice as she set her brush down and turned to her sister, eyes bright. This was not a rush she was used to, but it was just another new thing she would adjust to in this new life. “Do you remember those horrid paintings Arianwen hung around the house?” It was strange, calling her Arianwen, but Mother felt just as unnatural.

Adaine squinted back at her. “I thought you loved those paintings?”

“Absolutely not, they were awful,” Aelwyn scoffed.

Her sister nodded solemnly. “So, you are?”

“I’m painting.” She returned to her brushes, blending for a lighter shade of blue and scanning her canvas.

Her sister watched her quietly from the door. “Can I see it?” She asked.

Aelwyn considered it for a second before nodding. Adaine walked over slowly, and Aelwyn did nothing to hide the piece. “It is… not the best, but this is only my first attempt. I’m trying to be kind to myself when I’m not good at something the first time I do it.”

“Aelwyn, it’s lovely. Are those-”

“They’re the hydrangeas in the garden. The ones by the door you brought me in through.” They sat in silence for a little while, happy and content, two things they could never have been in their old house. “Do you think we could hang it somewhere?”

“Of course. Would you want it in here?”

She contemplated before turning to her sister. “Do you think we could put it where the others can see?” Where the family could see.

Her sister beamed up at her. “Hell yeah, we can.” 

\--- 

She finds herself touching things a lot.

She remembers when Adaine was a baby, and she would reach out and grab just about everything: hair, necklaces, ribbons. She remembers watching her parents rip things from her hands and leave her to cry; they had to keep their hands to themselves. She, of course, internalized this and made sure to keep her hands to herself until she could sneak away and get her hands on whatever or whoever she wanted.

Now she just grabs handfuls of blankets, digs her toes in the carpet, grazes her fingertips over the walls, rubs her thumb over picture frames, grounds herself in this place. She reaches out for Adaine, and Adaine holds her close.

It’s so nice. 

\--- 

When you’re a weapon and a tool and trophy to be displayed, you are no longer a person. And when you’re not a person, it is easy to convince yourself that you do not need a home, much less deserve a home. You need to make sure that the trophy stays golden and shining, that the weapon is always ready to attack, the tool is consistently prepared to assist. You make sure you are something fit to be used because you were raised believing it was your only purpose. If not in perfect shape, you have no use, no purpose.

“Expectation without love, what’s that?”

It was the Abernant house because it could never be a home. And now it was nothing but ash.

A part of her missed it, of course. Everything now was new, and she had no way of knowing how things were going to turn out. She didn’t have her tricks to rely on; her fail-safe no longer there to fall back on. It was the life she knew for almost eighteen years; how was she supposed to move on from that quickly?

Jawbone told her once that sometimes people go back to things that they know are bad for them because at least they were sure of what it would look like. She wasn’t evil for wanting that life back from time to time. She was just scared.

She knows she doesn’t miss how she used to treat Adaine. So, she focuses on that, and the desire for her old life dies back, bit by bit.

She knows she’s better off with what she has now. With a sister that loves her for her and a group of people that support her for trying, not just succeeding.

Now she has a favorite mug in the cabinet and a coat on the rack by the door. She has a picture of herself and Adaine at Basrar’s framed on the wall, and one of Ragh’s sweatshirts mixed in with her own because he wants her to keep it. Her sweatshirts, which are on the left side of the closet that she shares with her sister. When she comes downstairs on Saturday mornings, she can make herself tea and know that the chair in the living room that is always warm from the sun will be empty. She’ll nestle into that chair and listen to the conversations already taking place on the couches and chairs around the room, and maybe she’ll join in. She gets added to the rotation of picking a movie for movie night. Ragh will go out and pull weeds with her on some mornings, and Ayda will talk to her about all things magic. Fig will play the guitar in the living room, and Aelwyn can request songs from the kitchen while she makes anything but elven whey bread. Lydia tells her about her old adventures and always manages to make her laugh. She joins the Bad Kids and company when they drive away from the light pollution to see the stars. She learned Sandralynn’s coffee preferences so she can have it ready for the ranger in a to-go cup before she leaves for work on Baxter. When she hugs Jawbone and says goodnight to him, he is warm. She can hear his heartbeat, and his flannel is soft in her hands where she’s grabbed a bit of material from the back panel. She doesn’t want to stop hugging him, and she doesn’t have to.


End file.
